


A Christmas Epiphany

by josywbu



Series: Irondad Advent Calendar 2020 [24]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Asexual Peter Parker, Christmas Presents, Coming Out, Fluff, Gen, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Tony Stark is a mess, Tony's workshop, and an i love you, he compensates, it is what he deserves, just happy feelings here friends, lab time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28155783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josywbu/pseuds/josywbu
Summary: Peter comes out to Tony as asexual on a random day in the lab without any additional fuss and they go on with their lives. Or, they try to but Tony is freaking out over how to best support his kid. (So, of course, there's way too many presents.)Written entirely from Tony’s perspective.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Irondad Advent Calendar 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029600
Comments: 5
Kudos: 131





	A Christmas Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lieselfh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieselfh/gifts).



They’re in the lab.

Tony is simultaneously working on an update for the newest Stark Phone model and one of Peter’s suits. (One of the many the kid doesn’t yet know about.) When he’s waiting on one of them to finish rendering, he’s taking down notes to improve the other, his mind in a perfectly happy haze of numbers and equations, constantly zapping between design and practicability and coolness of his idea and value of the actual new function.

Every once in a while, he looks up to see what the kid is doing and if he’s still even there when it’s been too quiet for too long.

Peter is working, too.

He starts off with his homework that he has taken on finishing down in the lab on his workbench instead of in his room that is probably much better equipped for history assignments and English assays than the clutter they call a workspace. But he seems to be happy down here and Tony would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the quiet company.

Or unquiet company, really.

He enjoys being there when Peter gets fed up with a task and just starts ranting about the flaws in their education system and that he can’t believe they make him write three pages on whether or not school uniforms would prevent bullying for the third year in a row. ( _“I mean, come on, Mister Stark. If uniforms really prevented bullying then there’d be no harassment in the army. People are just mean.”)_

The next time Tony looks up – somewhere in the middle of deciding whether to add another protocol to the suit in case the kid ever decided to try to hold together a splitting ferry again – Peter’s already done with schoolwork and is now diligently working on his web shooters while different stages of new web fluid are simmering on heating plates and Bunsen burners next to him.

He bites back a smile and quietly starts programming the protocol.

When Peter is done and satisfied with what he’s achieved so far – or just impatiently waiting to continue with the next step of his web fluid recipe – he starts chatting. He usually starts joking around with Dum-E and F.R.I.D.A.Y. the former of which is positively delighted at the interaction and the other is just so damn fond of the kid.

Truth be told, Tony can relate. There’s little in life that brings him as much joy as watching Peter talk and his mind create a myriad of extraordinary things that he’s one-hundred percent certain no one else could ever think of. Though, he’s not too proud to admit that he’s also one-hundred percent biased.

Once the kid is sure he’s done enough socializing with both his robot and A.I. he bounds over to Tony’s workbench and, like clockwork, plops down on the swivel chair next to him that solely exists, so Peter can watch him work.

They start talking about nothing and everything all at once. Peter tells him about some distant relative that he and May will be meeting up with on the weekend even though he’d rather just stay home (because _“That’s a weird old lady, Mister Stark. A weird old lady.”_ ) and what he’s planning to do for Ned’s birthday next month.

Tony responds in kind, disclosing about how Pepper’s cousin is almost certainly coming back to New York in light of some wedding planning even though (or especially because) she can’t stand Tony. He even tries to weigh in on Peter’s birthday plans with his own, which the kid generally dismisses with an eye roll or just flat out laughs at his suggestions. Hurtful but not unprecedented.

He’s only half focused on the kid messing around on his swivel chair because he’s still working on finishing the software update and updating another one of Peter’s suits. (This one he does know about.)

Which is not to say he isn’t appreciating spending time with him or that these conversations aren’t the highlight of his day. It’s simply to say that this has long since become comfortable and cozy enough for both of them to be part of their normal routine. And their normal routines just happen to include getting work done.

They’re in the middle of discussing what they’d be having for dinner (and where they’d order their pizza from this time) when Tony stops replying for a minute or two, focused on putting the finishing touches on the update so he can finally be done with it, when Peter changes topics so fast he’s almost completely certain he’s misheard.

“Hey, uh, Mister Stark, this is kind of super random and I’m not sure why I didn’t tell you before and there’s not really a reason to tell you now but I do kind of want to and, well, I’m asexual.”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to finish rendering.

He looks at the kid – his face is open and confident, his body language relaxed and the only sign he’s anxious at all is the steady tapping of his knee on the desk as he’s bouncing on the ball of his feet.

This really doesn’t look like an earth-shattering exclamation of his true self that he has kept hidden for so long and Tony doesn’t know what to think, do and, most importantly, _say_ in light of all that. His mind is throwing seven hundred things at him all at once and while he’s used to being overwhelmed by an excessively active brain he still can’t focus on one single thought in the entire mess.

And he’s scared to mess up. He’s simply, blatantly terrified of saying the wrong thing and unintentionally hurt Peter and somehow disturb they homey feeling they have going on between them.

Realizing that, at least he has got to say _something_ because this really shouldn’t be hardest on him for _Christ’s sake_ , he drops his hands from where they were holding something entirely unimportant on the holographic screen and turns his body fully towards Peter.

“That’s, uh, great, buddy,” he says, cringing at his voice and the words coming out of his mouth and, really, his very existence. He carefully watches Peter’s expression for any clue of messing this up, pointedly ignoring his own racing heart. “How long have you known?”

“Well,” Peter thinks about it, hands tugged under his thighs, a sure sign of him trying to keep them from jittering because, despite his impressively calm exterior, this is still new for both of them. “I’ve known for a while but then I had an existential crisis about it for like a year,” he sends him a sheepish grin, shrugging it off. “Then I kinda decided to just _not_ put a label on it but, I don’t know, it just fits.”

Tony’s heart hurts in that moment for his kid that has been lost for a whole _year_ and he had no idea but Peter is still smiling and he holds onto that. He reaches out to him, a gesture he’s done a thousand times before, and ruffles his hair. “I’m sorry you were hurting.”

Peter shakes his head slightly, mostly dismissing his worry but his eyes are lighting up at the familiar touch. “It wasn’t that bad,” he shrugs again, “I think I might’ve kept Ned and MJ from getting any real sleep for weeks,” he admits bashfully, “’Cause I was in this eternal limbus of what-ifs but they understand, kind of.”

Tony nods and sends him a smile. “I’m glad they do.” He pauses awkwardly. “Do you want a hug?”

Peter’s face lights up like he’s just seeing snow for the first time. “I _always_ want a hug, Mister Stark.”

And so, he gets a hug and then they go upstairs, order their pizza and spend the rest of their evening bickering over the movie their watching like they normally would.

* * *

Life goes on after that, without so much as a hitch. Peter is still the bubbly nerdy kid he’s always been and he’s still the gruff but loving mentor and they’re _fine_.

Still, Tony is still trying to wrap his head around everything he’s learned for weeks after their conversation. And it’s not because he thinks that anything changes or that he sees Peter any different now he’s just – confused _because_ nothing has changed. This information that Peter trusted him with that evening that seemed so life-changing, simply _doesn’t change their lives_.

He has looked up what asexuality means the morning after and he has spent a good couple of hours on the internet trying to find out what an _‘ally’_ is and how to properly be one. He reads blog posts and finds funny pictures (those are the things Peter calls memes, right?) and in a moment of distraction he texts Peter one of them and then stays frozen in a state of utter horror until he responds with about a gazillion of laughing emojis. _Huh._

He’s not entirely sure what sleep deprivation high he’s on when he impulse-buys a black t-shirt with the print of a pile of four cats in the color of the ace flag (he’s learned about that one, too). And then, as if the first purchase somehow breaks the spell, he goes completely overboard. There’s beanies and scarfs and bedding and face masks and pictures. At some point he’s even programmed a tiny barely-there flag into the suit Peter is getting for Christmas.

And then… well, he sits on the stuff, entirely unsure whether his going overboard is deemed supportive and lovely or extremely weird and _cringe_ (though he’s not entirely sure how that word is supposed to be used in the English language).

Naturally, Christmas comes up a lot faster than it usually does and, instead of worrying about not having any present, Tony is knee-deep in a sea of presents he has no idea how to gift. And he’s slowly but surely freaking out about it. As one does.

He bides his time, goes through the motions of Christmas preparations, tending to a sick teenager just days before the holidays and figuring out what the heck he’s supposed to do.

It takes him _weeks_ , until right before they start handing out their presents, to bring up the courage to do something about it.

“Hey Pete,” he catches him alone in the hallway on the way to the dining room, smiling despite the screaming anxiety in his belly, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, Mister Stark.”

The kid is beaming up at him, dressed in one of his ugly Christmas sweaters and with cheeks pink from the warmth of the living room. He has already declared this to be the Best Christmas Ever, despite all adults trying to tell him it’s not even really Christmas yet.

He pulls him into one of the guest rooms across from his room for some privacy.

“Okay, uh, well,” he hems and haws for a moment as his mind blanks, “So, a couple of months ago, you told me about you being asexual, right?”

“I did,” Peter nods, head cocked to the side and clearly trying to figure out where this is going. (Unbeknownst to him Tony would like to find that out, too.)

“Yes, you did,” he repeats like an _idiot_ , “And I might’ve gone a little overboard with presents this year and some of them include, in some way or form, the ace flag. And I just want to tell you this, because I’m actually not sure if that’s a cool thing to do.” He can see that Peter wants to interrupt him but he’s not sure if he can start talking again if being stopped, so he just keeps going.

“The thing is, I have no idea what you need,” he offers, “I’m completely lost on how to best support you and what’s the right thing to do and say. And, obviously, I’m not freaking out about you being asexual. It actually doesn’t freak me out at all and I’m not sure if you want to talk about it more, if you want this part of you appreciated more and I’m just –“ he inhales sharply upon realizing he forgot to breathe, “I’m really lost on this and I wanted to tell you before you started opening your presents in front of everyone and it gets awkward.”

To his utter and complete relief, Peter smiles and there’s even a hint of moisture in the corner of his eye.

“Thank you, Mister Stark,” he says sincerely, “Right now, I don’t need you to do anything, I think. I just needed you to _know_ , you know? So that I’d have said it and wasn’t hiding anything from you. I’m kind of new to this, too, and I’m not entirely sure what I need but I love you _so much_ for the way that you didn’t treat me any differently ever since you’ve known and I’m not at a state where I need to constantly talk about it. It just feels good… you know, to be accepted for who I am.”

“I love you, too, Pete.” He pulls him into a hug, heart thumping loudly now that the pile of bricks that have been sitting on his chest have all tumbled down. “So, about the presents…”

Peter laughs. “I mean, how many are they even? Like, three?”

“I told you I went _overboard_ , kid. Three is not even close to the digit sum.”

“Oh god,” he fake-gasps but then topples over in more laughter, “What have you done.”

“Christmas surprise?”

**Author's Note:**

> I love you, jerk. To the moon, two times around the sun and back. ❤️
> 
> PS: If you can't tell - I am extremely proud of the title.


End file.
